


Somebody Told Me

by liv_andlet_die



Category: Nightwing (Comics), The Flash - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Best Friends, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-07-02 23:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15806868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liv_andlet_die/pseuds/liv_andlet_die
Summary: Dick Grayson has a new boyfriend. Or does he?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, it's a fake dating AU. I caved. 
> 
> Hoping to make this one a bit of a slow burn too. It's gonna be a bumpy ride ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

“Did you seriously just order your third milkshake?”

“Yes?”

“Dude.”

“What? I’ll pay for it.”

“That’s not the – y’know what, I’m not gonna bother.”

Wally throws a french fry at Dick in retaliation for the sass, who snatches it out of the air a few inches from his face with a grin.

“I need the calories!”

“In the form of milkshakes?”

“Yes!”

“I feel like there are better ways to get your calorie intake.”

“Easier? Maybe. _Better?_ Not a chance.”

Dick rolls hi s eyes, dunking the caught French fry in some ketchup before popping it in his mouth. “You need professional help.”

It’s Saturday afternoon, and for the first time in weeks, the two of them have managed to wrangle their schedules into some semblance of order to spend a day together. It’s weird, not being able to spend time with Wally these days. With Wally in college and Dick himself finishing up high school, they’ve got so much on their plates that they never get to see each other outside of missions. As great as missions are, sometimes you just need to shoot the shit with your best friend.

Especially when your best friend is as hot as Wally West.

Dick shakes that thought out of his mind. That is _not_ a place he wants to go right now, with Wally sitting _right there_ – looking like red headed Adonis with an easy smile and kind green eyes and-

Shit.

“-and you know what, I checked with Uncle Barry, and the sugar goes through me so fast that I don’t have to worry about diabetes or anything like that, so you should really-… Dude, you good?”

Dick blinks. Wally’s giving him a concerned stare, an eyebrow raised in question. Dick shakes his head again, realizing Wally’s been talking this entire time and he’s just been watching him like a lovesick idiot.

He is _not_ a lovesick idiot.

Dick licks his lips, tasting salt and the sweetness of ketchup as he tries not to swallow his own tongue in embarrassment.

“Yeah, just trying not vomit over your eating habits.”

Wally scowls, tossing another fry at him. This one hits Dick square on the nose, and Wally whoops in victory, fists in the air. Dick rolls his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh that’s really one of relief.

“So, catch me up!” Wally leans back on his side of the old diner booth, resting an elbow on the edge of the cushion. “What’s the life of Dick Grayson been like for the last two months?”

“Honestly? Pretty boring.” Dick shrugs. He fiddles with the big paper straw in his own milkshake, swirling around the last dregs of pink foam at the bottom of the glass. “Senior year is kinda kicking my ass, so Bruce has been steadily shoving that stick further up his own because of it. He’s called me off a couple patrol shifts recently because exams are coming up, which is _completely_ unnecessary.”

Wally frowns. “You doin’ okay?”

“Yeah, just a matter of multitasking.”

“You sure?”

“I can handle it.” Dick slides the glass to the edge of the table to be picked up by a server. “What about you? The end of your sophomore year, how’s that going?”

It’s Wally’s turn to shrug. “Not much to tell, really. Second year isn’t as interesting as first.”

“No house fires?”

“Nope.”

“Keg parties?”

“With _my_ roommates? Nah.”

“Walks of shame?”

Wally’s face drops into a deadpan. “I’m a physics major.”

Dick cocks an eyebrow. “With the body of _superhero_.”

“That no one ever sees because _I’m a physics major_.”

Dick snorts, tossing another French fry in his mouth. “You need to get out more, dude.”

Wally scoffs. “Says the biggest fuckin’ hermit I know.”

“Excuse me!” He smacks his palm against his chest in mock offense. “Haven’t you read the Gotham Gazette? Or Seventeen magazine? _I_ spend every night out on the town, going wild with several lovely ladies on my arms, don’t’cha know.”

“ _You?_ ” Wally bursts into laughter, arms folding on the table and burying his face in the crook of his elbow and his body shakes in hysterics.

“I’m a Teen Heartthrob.”

“Pfft-”

“I’m Gotham’s second-most eligible bachelor.”

“Second to who?”

“Bruce.”

“Ew!”

“Yeah.”

Wally shudders, sitting up straight and nodding a ‘thank you’ to their server as she places his new vanilla milkshake in front of him. “That’s… wrong, on so many levels.”

“Yeah well, I’m eighteen now.” Dick shrugs again, not missing the flirtatious smile the girl sends his way as she picks up his empty glass. “They can say what they want. Not that they were stingy with their words before.”

“Gross…” Wally sticks his tongue out in distaste before taking a sip. “I don’t know how you deal with being a… celebrity. It’s weird.”

“You get used to it.”

“I never could.”

“It’s not like you haven’t shown up in the tabs with me before.”

Wally, to Dick’s surprise, chokes on his milkshake, sputtering white liquid over his side of the table. Dick recoils from the onslaught, sliding their fries out of the way in the same motion.

_“What?!”_

Dick laughs and rips a few napkins out of the silver container at the side of the table, wiping it down as the ginger stares him incredulously. “Dude, you’re a mess.”

“Wha- how?” Wally blinks a few times, eyes wide in disbelief. “What do you _mean_?”

“You’ve got milkshake dribbling down your chin.”

“Dick!”

“It’s gross.”

Wally snatches a napkin out of his hand, wiping it over his face haphazardly. _How_ Dick fell in love with this idiot, he’ll never know.

“Would you _please_ explain to me how this happened.”

“Dude, you’re my best friend. People see us together in public, it happens.”

“Yeah, but _tabloids_?”

“Do you not use social media _ever_?”

_“Physics major!”_

_“Not an excuse!”_

Wally flops his head down on the table with a ‘smack’, barely missing the puddle of milkshake on his right. Dick rolls his eyes. They’ve had this conversation one too many times before.

“What… what do they say?”

“Well-” Dick runs a hand through his hair, wondering where to start. “Most of the time people think we’re dating.”

“Really?”

“I mean I came out a couple years ago and we usually spend a lot of time together. It’s not an unreasonable conclusion.”

Wally’s quiet for a moment, then lifts his head to give Dick a questioning look. “But they also write about you being with a bunch of girls?”

“I never said they were smart.”

He snickers, resting his chin on the tabletop. “You got me there.”

Dick picks up a few more French fries and stuffs them into his mouth, then slides the basket under Wally’s nose. “Here, finish this. We’ve got the rest of the day, let’s not waste it.”

“But my milkshake!”

“Chug it.”

“But-! Brain-freeze!”

“Don’t be a baby.”

Wally pouts, then proceeds to shove the rest of the fries in his mouth and start slurping down the milkshake. Luckily, he’d already drank (and spat up) half of it, so it only takes him a few seconds to finish.

Dick slides a fifty under the salt shaker, knowing it’ll cover more than both bills combined and probably make their server’s day. Wally cradles his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose as a pained grimace crosses his face.

“Urgh… I can’t believe you made me do that.”

“Oh, because you protested so much.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“You knew that when you got into this friendship, too late to back out now.”

Wally cuffs Dick over the back of the head as they slide out of the diner booth, which Dick responds to by shoving him into the chrome railing of the bar top. Wally bangs his hip on the edge and yelps in pain, catching the attention everyone in the diner.

Including the manager, who glares at them from behind the bar.

Uh oh.

Dick gives her a sheepish grin and a wave, trotting speedily out of the restaurant with Wally hot on his heels.

They barely get outside before Wally’s pushing Dick over in revenge. He laughs, righting himself easily and prodding Wally in the side.

“Hey! No tickle spots!”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Unreliable source.” Dick pokes him again.

“Mmn- haa- nno!” Wally leaps out of Dick’s reach, waving his arms protectively in front of him. “Illegal!”

Dick grins wickedly, wiggling his fingers. “You realize that just makes it much more tempting.”

“Do _not_ touch my-” Wally pauses, twisted at an odd angle to stay out to Dick’s reach, looking curiously at something behind him.

Dick turns to see what he’s looking at, and finds a group of paparazzi snapping photos of them from across the sheet. His grin falls from his lips, replaced with a sneer of displeasure.

“Great…”

When Dick turns back to Wally, he’s standing normally again – if a little stiff. He looks pretty uncomfortable, and Dick immediately feels awful for dragging him into this. It’s not like he has a choice, really, but he hates that Wally is being forced into the situation.

He grabs Wally’s wrist and starts pulling him away from the crowd. “Just don’t pay attention.”

“Those are some big cameras.”

“Stop _looking_.”

“They actually dress like sleazebags, I thought that was just in the movies.”

“Wally!”

“What? I’ve never seen them up close before.”

“They’re not endangered animals, they’re paps.”

“ _Paps?_ Who _are_ you?”

“I’m someone who’s been living with this for nine years.”

“Jesus…”

Wally cranes his neck over his shoulder to glance at the photographers again, who have crossed the street to follow them, so Dick yanks a little harder on his arm as he picks up the pace.

“Would you _quit_ it!?”

“I can’t help it! It’s like a car crash, you can’t not look.”

“I’m having a very easy time _not_ looking.”

“You’re immune, you’ve seen too many car crashes.”

“ _Wally!_ ”

He finally turns around again, to Dick’s relief. If they ignore them long enough, and act boring enough, they usually go away. It’s only when Dick has to do something drastic that they ever pay any real attention.

Dick sneaks a glance at Wally, who’s staring ahead with an odd look on his face. He figures it’s some measure of discomfort still; Wally’s eyes are tight in the corners, his lips pressed together in a line. There’s a pang in Dick’s chest at the sight, and he’s about to offer some words of comfort, before Wally moves without warning.

He snaps his head back to glance at the paparazzi again, which Dick is about to yell at him for, then suddenly slings his arm around Dick’s shoulders. Wally pulls him closer, practically plastering him to his side, and presses his face into Dick’s dark hair to plant a kiss on the top of his head. Dick tenses up instantly, red to the tips of his ears.

It’s not like Wally’s never held him before, but it’s not often that he’s _this_ openly affectionate.

“What are you _doing_?” Dick hisses through clenched teeth. “Do you _want_ to fuel those rumors?”

Wally shrugs, glancing down and winking at Dick so quickly he almost doesn’t catch it. It sends Dick’s heart leaping into his throat. “Why not?”

Dick’s jaw drops in surprise, feeling Wally’s hand start to trace circles on the back of his shoulder, sending shivers down his spine. “But-”

Suddenly, the sound of camera shutters gets a lot louder, the paparazzi catching up with them.

_“Mr. Grayson!”_

_“Dick, who’s your new beau?”_

_“Turn around!”_

_“What’s your name, kid?”_

Dick bites his tongue, knowing he’s going to regret doing this, before curling his own arm around Wally’s waist. He’s doing it so he can pull his friend along faster, which he does, but he knows it’s just going to make them more bloodthirsty.

The cameras start snapping faster.

_“Dick, are you dating now?”_

_“How long have you been together?”_

_“You have a thing for redheads?”_

Dick pushes down the urge to turn around and give them a mouthful, just walking a bit faster. Wally matches his pace easily, still glancing over his shoulder. Dick doesn’t have the energy to stop him anymore.

Wally leans a little closer. “I have an idea…”

“Because your last one was so great…”

“Promise not to hate me?”

“Too late.”

“Fair enough.”

“Don’t you da-!”

Wally turns to the paparazzi, flashing a charming smile over his shoulder. “ _Mr. Grayson_ isn’t taking questions right now.”

“Dude, _what_ are you-”

Without warning (again), Wally bends down and scoops Dick into his arms, who yelps in surprise as his feet leave the ground. The paparazzi go wild, snapping pictures as fast as they can, but Wally’s already taken off down the street.

Dick throws his arms around Wally’s neck to hold on, staring at his friend in a mix of amusement and outrage. “You asshole!”

Wally grins, shaking his hair out of his eyes as he picks up the pace. He’s running just fast enough that the photographers can’t catch up, but not so fast that it’s in-human. His eyes are glinting with mischief and Dick is trying _really_ hard not to love that.

“You love me.”

“Not anymore.” His red cheeks and rapid heart beat definitely don’t contradict that sentence.

Wally turns a corner, and Dick glances over his shoulder to peek at the paparazzi. They’re falling way behind now. “Hurtful. I just saved you from your crazed fans.”

“You’ve made it so much worse.”

“Not like it means anything, they can think what they want.” Wally’s grip gets a little tighter around Dick’s legs. “They gone yet?”

Dick takes another peek. “Almost. Turn left into that alley.”

Wally skids around the corner, taking them into the shadows. The paparazzi disappear around the corner, unable to keep up with Wally’s long legs.

“You’re good.”

“Ready?”

“Go.”

Dick ducks his head against Wally’s collarbone as the world blurs around him, the speedster carrying him taking off like a shot. He doesn’t know where they’re going – he hopes it’s out of the city – but he’s accepted his fate at this point. No way of arguing with Wally West when he’s got an idea.

It’s not like it’s an awful place to be – cradled in Wally’s arms.

Not that Dick will ever admit that.

When the world finally comes to a halt, they’re standing in another alley. Still in Gotham, from the looks of the grungy walls towered over them, but probably on the other side of the city. Dick would know exactly where if they were on a rooftop, but the ground is where Wally’s expertise lies.

“Think we lost them.”

“Nooo, really?” Dick rolls his eyes, wriggling in Wally’s arms to be let down. Wally drops his hold on Dick’s legs, letting his feet touch the floor before uncurling his arm from around Dick’s side.

Dick does _not_ mourn the loss of Wally’s touch. He doesn’t.

“We’re at a zeta, if you wanna get out of Gotham.” Wally stretches his arms over his head, his shoulders cracking with a satisfying ‘pop’.

Dick looks around and finds a decrepit old phonebooth at the end of the alleyway that they’ve both used many times before. Dick knows exactly where they are now.

He turns to his best friend, crossing his arms and giving him a very unimpressed look. “You do realize that you’ve now made your life a living hell.”

Wally cocks an eyebrow. “Why?”

“They’ll never leave you alone.”

“Nah, it’ll blow over.”

“It won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

Wally shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets. “So, they think we’re dating. What’s the big deal?”

Dick’s eyes narrow, processing that question for a minute and trying to swallow the lump that just leapt into his throat.

What the _hell_ does that mean?

“I mean. I guess there isn’t one. But you’ll be beating them off with a stick within a week.”

“That’s fine.”

“You’re gonna hate it.”

“Okay.”

Dick can’t quite get how Wally is so fine this. Ten minutes ago, he’d been saying he couldn’t stand being in the spotlight. Now, he’s totally nonchalant.

Dick is _very_ chalant right now.

He pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Alright. But don’t forget, you did this to yourself.”

Wally chuckles, running a hand through his hair. Cool as a cucumber. “I know.”

Dick can’t decide if he wants to strangle him or kiss him. He smothers down both impulses, moving instead to shove Wally aside as he makes his way to the Zeta point.

“Hey!” Wally catches himself against the wall, pushing himself upright and jogging up behind him. “Aren’t you gonna thank me?”

“ _Thank_ you?”

“You’re welcome.”

Dick smacks his arm. “What on earth would I thank you for?”

“Getting you away from the _paps_ , of course.”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

“But I’m your hero- mmnh! Hey! No tickle spots!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wayne's are a ruthless bunch. Don't try to hide things from Bruce Wayne - he's Batman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too much Wally in this chapter, but hopefully a lil batfamily shenanigans makes up for that.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

 When Dick comes downstairs the next morning, he enters the kitchen with bleary eyes. Last night’s patrol had been rough. Three bank robberies, five muggings and a false alarm at Arkham. Normally, all that wouldn’t be a problem, but for the life of him, he couldn’t get to sleep.

He can’t get his head around Wally’s behaviour the day before. Why did Wally taunt the paparazzi like that? What did he mean by ‘what’s the big deal’? Why was he so okay with the idea of people thinking they were dating? Is _he_ okay with the idea of them dating? Does he want that?

Dick smothers down the heat in his chest, pushing away that train of thought. No point in getting his hopes up. He’s been in love with Wally for years, he’d given up that notion a long time ago.

He stumbles into the kitchen to see a blurry vision of Bruce and Tim sitting at the island, Alfred gently stirring something on the stove. Tim looks up from his tablet to send Dick a tired smile, waving good morning before returning to his screen. Bruce doesn’t make any acknowledgement of his presence, apparently too entranced by his newspaper.

Dick grumbles a soft ‘good morning’ to his family, socked feet dragging on the floor as he makes his way over to the coffee pot.

“Good morning, Master Richard.” Alfred hands him a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast, which Dick takes from him with a grateful sigh. “Did you sleep well?”

“As well as I can with a busted rib.” Dick shrugs, carrying his food and fresh cup of coffee over to the island and sliding into a bar stool next to his brother. “Couldn’t really get comfortable.”

“Is it wrapped properly?” Tim asks, still staring down at his screen while trying to wrangle an entire strip of bacon into his mouth with a fork.

“You did it, so I should hope so.” Dick mumbles, ruffling the kid’s hair.

Tim swats at his hand, frowning off into space for a moment before turning to him with a confused expression. “I did?”

“Yeah, and then I set your ankle.” Dick cocks an eyebrow. “Do you not remember?”

Tim looks like he’s thinking about it. “I think so…? It’s all a little jumbled, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow and I’m not fully awake yet.”

“I hear that…” Dick mutters. He doesn’t think he went to sleep at all, but he does _not_ feel awake right now either. He starts shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth, ripping into a slice of bacon with his teeth as he chews. Dick can feel Alfred’s disapproving stare burrowing into the side of his head, but he’s too tired and hungry to be sheepish.

The newspaper in front of Bruce shakes slightly as he turns the page, the sound of a cleared throat and a slurp of coffee coming from behind the thin paper. Dick muffles a laugh – Bruce would always be the same in the morning, no doubt about that. You gotta hit him just before 11 if you need anything – he’s awake enough to not communicate in grunts and only grunts, but he’s still just sleepy enough to hand you a crisp $100 bill when you ask to see a movie with your friends.

Ah, the good old days. When friends weren’t so damn complicated, and he’d just managed to figure out the quirks of his new legal guardian.

They sit in silence as they eat, Tim tapping on his tablet screen the only sound for a while until Bruce folds up his paper. Dick nods a ‘good morning’ to him as he rises from his seat to pour another cup of coffee. Bruce doesn’t sit down again, just leans against the side of the island sipping slowly from his mug, so Dick doesn’t really pay any mind.

He’s shoveling another forkful of bacon into his mouth when Bruce decides to toss the newspaper down in front of him.

“So, Dick, would you like to elaborate on this headline for us?”

Dick glances up from his plate, takes one look at the image in front of him, and nearly chokes on his breakfast.

**‘GOLDEN BOY OF GOTHAM DICK GRAYSON SWEPT OFF HIS FEET BY NEW MYSTERY BOY TOY’**

The headline makes his head spin, but it’s nothing compared to the picture beneath it. It’s a crystal clear shot of him and Wally from the day before, Dick cradled in his arms as Wally sprints away from the photographer. Dick is grinning over his shoulder at the camera, hands clasped together behind Wally’s neck. It’s an incriminating image, for sure. Dick didn’t even realize he was _smiling_ that much when it was happening. Damnit.

“Uh.”

Tim snatches the paper up, peeing closer at the image with wide eyes. “Is that _Wally_?”

Dick moves to grab the paper out of Tim’s hands, but the boy is too fast even with a sprained ankle, leaping out of his chair and bounding across the kitchen. “It’s not what it looks like!”

Tim unfolds the paper, ripping through the pages until he finds the right article. He clears his throat dramatically: “ ‘Gotham’s second most eligible bachelor, Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson was found yesterday, prancing through the city’s streets with another young man.’ ”

“We were not _prancing_ -!”

“ ‘The two were seen play fighting and cozying up to each other as they left Monroe’s Downtown Diner. When questioned by our reporters, Dick’s new boy toy promptly picked up the Wayne Heir bridal style and ran away with him. Who is this Mystery Man? Has Dick finally gotten over his heart-wrenching breakup with the Commissioner’s daughter, Barbara Gordon? Will Dick be attending the Wayne’s Annual Summer Gala with a new boyfriend on his arm? Only time will tell. If there’s one thing for sure, it’s that Dick Grayson definitely has a thing for gingers.”

By the time Tim is finished reading, Dick can feel his entire body wanting to melt into the kitchen tile. He can feel Bruce’s gaze boring into the side of his skull, but he will not, under any circumstances, remove his hands from his face.

“It’s not what it looks like…” He repeats, the words muffled behind his palms.

“So, you’re not dating Kid Flash?”

“No, Bruce, I am not.”

“Sure looks like it.”

“Shut _up_ , Tim!”

Dick peeks out between his fingers to glare at his little brother, who’s grinning from ear to ear, still holding onto the offending material. He then glances up at Bruce, who’s watching him over the rim of his coffee cup as he takes another long sip.

“We’re not dating.”

“Hm.”

“We’re _not_ , Bruce, Wally was just-”

“Riling up the reporters?”

Dick pauses, clamping his lips together. He’s not sure if that’s a disapproving tone, but he doesn’t want to risk it. Wally’s gotten into enough shit with Bruce lately as it is. “He just… It was my idea. I thought it would… add to the Wayne image, y’know.”

“Our image?”

“Yeah.”

“Your idea?”

“Yup.”

“Hm.” Bruce leans back against the edge of the island, crossing his arms. “Well, I suppose if you were going for something drastic, you hit the nail on the head.”

“Mhm.” Dick reaches for his own cup of coffee, sipping from it as inconspicuously as possible.

“They’ll never leave you two alone until they get some answers.”

“I told _him_ that…” Dick mutters into his drink, rolling his eyes.

Bruce cocks an eyebrow. “Told him?”

His eyes widen, forgetting that Bruce’s hearing is even better than Alfred’s. “Uh. I just- I told him that when, uh… when I told him about my idea. He was okay with it.”

“Okay with the paparazzi thinking you two are dating?”

“…yeah.”

Bruce nods, staring down at the floor with an indecipherable expression. Dick grips his coffee mug so tightly his fingers go numb, waiting for Bruce’s response. Not that he needs Bruce’s approval. Definitely not.

“Well,” Bruce finally speaks, and Dick lets out a sigh of relief. “If you’re sure about it.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

“You’re going to have to be thorough, if you’re doing this for the ‘Wayne Image’.”

“Doing what?”

“Pretending to date Wally.”

It’s a good thing he stopped sipping his coffee about five seconds ago or else he would’ve choked on that too.

“Wait- _what?_ ”

Bruce pushes himself away from the island, plucking his newspaper out of Tim’s hands with ease and making his towards the door. He’s definitely not smiling as he calls over his shoulder: “You’re gonna have to make it look really good if you want to keep up with me on that front, Dick. I’m a _Playboy_ Billionaire for a reason, after all.”

Both Tim and Dick make faces at that. _“Bruc_ e!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And with that, he’s gone.

Dick slams him head on the counter, trying to drive that image out of his mind forever. His dad – a ‘playboy’? _Eurgh_.

“ _Well_ , I’m gonna go and bleach my brain now, see ya later.” Tim snatches up his tablet from the island, dropping his empty plate in the sink and sending Dick a two-fingered salute as he leaves.

“Take me with you…” Dick mumbles, screwing his eyes up and rubbing furiously at the lids. To no avail. That mental image is in there forever.

He hops off the bar stool with a sigh, bringing his dirty dishes over to Alfred and dropping them in the sink. His offer to help clean has been rejected so many times that he doesn’t even bother anymore, but that doesn’t stop him from rinsing off the remnants of food still left on the porcelain surface. It gets him a ‘look’ from the old butler, but he’s used to that by now.

As Dick walks out of the kitchen and into the front hall, realization hits him like a train and he stops dead in his tracks.

Wait.

Pretending to date Wally.

Bruce thinks that Dick is _pretending_ to date Wally. _On purpose_.

His hands are in his hair now, desperately pulling at the strands because _what the fuck did he just get himself into?_

Dick’s cellphone is ringing in his pocket while he’s trying to process that thought, and he’s answering the call on autopilot before he even knows it.

“Hello?”

“Hey Golden Boy, how’s your new boyfriend?”

Dick groans. “Oh god… you saw the headline?”

“ _Headline_?” Barbara laughs. “As in _singular_? You haven’t been online yet today, have you?”

His fingers tighten on the phone, pressing it even closer against his ear. “No… should I be-…?”

“Oh, you should be scared. You should be very, _very_ afraid.”

He’s sprinting up the stairs two at a time, racing down the hall to his bedroom and slamming the door behind him. He’s crouching beside the edge of his bed, yanking his laptop open and typing furiously at the keys as he holds the phone between his cheek and shoulder.

“Where?”

“Um, _everywhere?_ ” Babs is still laughing in the other end of the call. “Gotham Gazette, Seventeen, TMZ, even the _Daily Planet_ has a column about it.”

“The Daily-? Fuck. Clark is never gonna let me live this down.”

Dick googles his own name, which is something he usually avoids doing at all costs, and is assaulted with a thousand versions of the same image: Himself, in Wally’s arms, grinning from ear to ear. They look like they’re both having the time of their goddamn lives – and remembering the look on his best friends face, Wally probably was.

Sure enough, the images are linked to over a dozen separate articles on the first page alone. Adding ‘boyfriend’ to the search brings the number of results to a whopping 1.5 million. The sheer numbers are astounding.

Very briefly, the idea of saving that image to his hard drive passes through his thoughts. Add to the folder of selfies and candid’s that he’s already collected of himself and Wally. He squashes that thought down quickly, closing his laptop and tossing it across the bed as he throws himself down on the mattress.

“What the fuck was he thinking?”

“Who?”

“ _Wally_.” Dick groans, dragging his palm over his face in frustration. “This is all his fault…”

Babs chuckles. “When does Wally ever think?”

“And now Bruce thinks this was my idea.”

“What?”

“I had to cover for Wally’s idiocy and took the fall, and now Bruce thinks we’re fake dating. On purpose.”

“Wait, wait-” He can almost picture Babs pulling off her glasses and settling them on top of her head, the way she always does when she’s trying to figure something out. “Bruce thinks you guys are ‘fake dating’?”

“Yup.”

“What for?”

“The ‘Wayne Image’.”

“Wh-?”

“I had to think quickly, okay, I wasn’t awake enough to be lying to Bruce.”

“Dick…”

“Hm?”

“This is the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

Dick bolts upright in bed, scandalized. “This was _not_ my idea!”

“Well it’s your _problem_ now.” Babs sighs, her tone a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Have you talked to Wally?”

“Nope.”

“You’ve gotta talk to Wally.”

“ _Nope_.”

“Dick!”

“Babs!”

“You’ve gotta milk this for all it’s worth.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ve been in love with this guy for _years_ , and now he’s gone and got the world thinking that you’re dating him? That’s no coincidence.”

Dick closes his eyes, willing away the pang in his chest. “Babs…”

“I’m not kidding, something’s fishy.”

“Wally did not do this for any other reason than he’s an idiot.”

“He’s not that dumb.”

“You underestimate his stupidity.”

“You interpret his impulsiveness as stupidity. Just because he thinks fast does not mean he doesn’t think at all.”

“You literally just said he never thinks.”

“I exaggerate!”

In the background of the call, Dick can hear faint typing. He figures this conversation is coming to a close if Babs is starting to multi-task. He just hopes he can come out on top.

Babs ploughs on before Dick can get a word in. “Look, I’m not saying he did all this on purpose so the world would think you’re in the love with him, which you already are but that’s beside the point. I’m saying, that maybe this wasn’t totally impulsive and stupid. Maybe there was some intention behind it this time.”

Dick sighs again, brushing a few long strands of hair out of his face. “I just… I don’t really want to let myself think that. Y’know?”

“I know. But you’ve gotta talk to him at some point. The world has questions.”

“I don’t have any answers.”

“Then I think you two better start coming up with some together, cuz there’s no way you can do this ‘fake dating’ thing without actually being around him.”

Dick groans, rubbing furiously at his eyes. “I guess.”

“I’m gonna let you go now, but you better call him the second I hang up.”

“No promises.”

“Good- _bye_ Dick. Talk to your boyfriend.”

“Babs-!”

The line goes dead before he can finish the nickname, and now he’s staring at his contact list in distress.

It takes about five minutes to work up the courage to scroll through his recent calls, finding Wally’s name repeated amongst other, less important, contacts. There’s a lightning bolt and burger emoji next to his name, as well as a yellow heart - because Wally picked them himself and he’s not exactly a subtle person.

Dick gazes at that name for a long while, the black letters imprinting into his retinas as his finger hovers over the ‘call’ button. His phone vibrates in his hand and he actually jumps at the interruption, a text from Babs popping up at the top of his screen:

**_‘CALL HIM!’_ **

He mumbles something under his breath about her being called ‘Oracle’ for a reason, then bites his tongue hard as he hits ‘call’.

The seemingly endless ringing has his heart launching itself into his throat. It feels like an eternity before Wally finally picks up.

“Hey sunshine, what’s up?”

The nickname makes Dick want to scream into his pillow, but instead just grips his phone a little bit tighter. “You haven’t checked any social media today, have you?”

“That’s a redundant question and you know it.”

“Good. We need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick is never going to live any of this down. Hopefully, it's worth it.
> 
> Up next: The Talk
> 
> ~~~~
> 
> If you want to yell at me about birdflash/batfam/dc in general, hit me up at notstars-doors.tumblr.com !!! :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's been an freakin eternity since I've updated this fic, but hopefully this chapter makes up for the long wait! Enjoy <3

“Okay, sorry, explain to me again how this happened?”

Dick throws himself backwards on Wally’s bed, huffing in exasperation and throwing a pillow over his face. “I’ve already gone over it once, don’t make me do it again.”

They’re in Wally’s room, Dick having Zeta-ed to Palo Alto earlier that afternoon. It had taken him a solid half an hour to get the words out, but eventually Dick had been able to tell Wally about the whole mess he’d put them in. To his credit, Wally had been remarkably patient with Dick while he had explained and done his best not to turn beet red the whole time. The pressure of anxiety in his chest made him feel like he’d just run a marathon, and now Dick’s waiting for a reaction from Wally that hasn’t come. 

Wally crawls forward, lifting the corner of the pillow up. Dick turns his head, not wanting to meet Wally’s inquisitive gaze just yet. “So, Bruce thinks we’re… “fake” dating?”

“Yeah.”

“And you just went along with it.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Dick whines, throwing his hands in the air. “I had to cover for you, so Bruce doesn’t think that this whole bad idea was  _ yours  _ to begin with - even though it basically is - and he just ran with it. I couldn’t exactly argue with him once that happened.”

“Fair enough.” Wally shrugs. He’s got that look on his face again - the one Dick can’t quite decipher -  and it’s driving him up the wall that he can’t figure out what Wally’s thinking.

“Look…” Dick sighs, sitting up and settling the pillow in his lap. He fiddles with the frayed edges of the laundry tag, printed instructions faded from years of use. “I know it’s a stupid idea. I’ll just tell Bruce that- that we were just playing around and it wasn’t meant to become a thing, and-”

“Hold up-” Wally raises a hand, cutting Dick off mid-sentence. “Do you think I’m about to pass on an opportunity to get a one-up on the B-man?”

“I-”

“Because you think  _ wrong _ , my friend.”

“Wally-” Dick huffs out a laugh in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Hell yeah I’m serious.” Wally’s grinning, with that mischievous glint in his eyes that’s gotten them both into so much trouble over the years. “It’d be so easy, too.”

Dick pauses, feeling skeptical and letting it show. He turns on the bed, his legs crossed and knees bumping into Wally’s. “What makes you say that?”

“Uh, it’s us.” Wally’s deadpans, cocking an eyebrow as if the answer is obvious. The answer sends Dick’s heart into his throat, the word ‘us’ twisting his stomach in knots. “I’m pretty sure I know you better than I know myself.”

Dick swallows hard. He knows that. And he knows that  _ he  _ knows  _ Wally  _ better than himself. That doesn’t stop his pulse from racing in his ears. It would be so much easier to do this whole thing if he didn’t  _ actually  _ have feelings for Wally. 

“So… we’re doing this, then?” He asks, his voice so close to cracking and he thanks his lucky stars that it doesn’t. 

“I’m down if you’re down.”

Once again, Wally’s eyes, emerald and honest, are unreadable. Dick lets himself stare for a only a moment, trying to find something there to tell him what’s going on in that ginger head. It seems like Wally’s learned something from being best friends with a Bat for so long. 

“Alright, let’s do it.” Dick finally says, and they’re grinning at each other so wide that Dick feels like his face might split. “But if we do this, we’ve gotta do it right.”

“Oh, of course.” Wally nods, expression suddenly all serious, pursing his lips as though trying not to smile. It makes Dick’s own smile grow wider, feeling dumb and giddy and gross. “First- when did we start dating?”

His breath hitches in his throat. There’s something about that question that sends the context flying out of Dick’s head. He blinks. “Uh- what?”

“When did we start dating?” Wally asks again. He leans forward, a small smile forming that tells Dick his meaning should be obvious. “We gotta figure out the details, so we’re in sync, y’know? Like, our anniversary and shit.”

“Oh. Right.” 

“So…?”

“Uh. Maybe like… six months ago?”

Wally nods. “Sure. Long enough that we’re comfortable, short enough that it’s plausible we could hide it til now.” When Dick cocks an inquisitive eyebrow, he only shrugs. “I’ve watched  _ a lot _ of movies, dude.”

“Whatever you say, man.”

“Alright, let’s get down to business.” Wally claps his hands together, then gestures them both towards Dick. “First date?”

“Hm. Movie?”

“Too generic. Dinner?”

“And that’s  _ not  _ generic?”

“It’s classier than just a movie!”

“Since when do we do classy?”

“Since I started dating a  _ Wayne _ , that’s when.”

Wally’s tone is exasperated, but oddly sincere, and it’s doing things to Dick’s insides. He buries his fingers in his hair, wracking his brain for a subject change. “Okay, how about we do something  _ us  _ instead, like - I dunno - something themed? Like, a video game cafe.”

Wally’s face lights up in surprise. “Yeah! That’s perfect. We’ve been meaning to go to that one on 23nd street anyway.”

Dick grins. “That’s what I was thinking.”

“Great minds.” Wally winks, nudging his knee against Dick’s. “But wait- who asked who?” Before Dick can even get a word in, Wally’s waving a dismissive hand. “That’s a dumb question, of course you asked me.”

“Wait a minute- why am I doing the asking?”

“Because if we say that I asked, they’ll think I’m just in it for the money.”

“Who?”

“Your  _ paps _ .”

“Okay, first?” Dick points his index finger at Wally, brows raised. “It’s weird when  _ you  _ say that. Second, we’ve been friends for years, if you’d been in it for the benefits, I would’ve figured that out.”

“Yeah, but aren’t you supposed to be the naive son of a playboy billionaire?”

Dick opens his mouth, hoping for some witty retort to find it’s way out, but it doesn’t. Wally’s right. It does make more sense if Dick asks him out. Especially if Wally asking him would mean that Wally would get shit on for it. Dick doesn’t want his best friend being exposed to anything like that because of him. “Yeah, alright, fair enough.”

“So, you ask me out, we go to a video game cafe. What did we play?”

Dick rolls his eyes. “Smash, of course. What else would we play?”

Wally smacks his own forehead, and Dick smiles at the familiar gesture. “You’re absolutely right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I really don’t know, we haven’t played anything else consistently since we were- wait, hang on.” Dick leans backwards to grab his phone from where he’d left it on Wally’s other pillow. “Shit, I gotta go.”

He ignores the way Wally’s face’s drops into crestfallen territory and what that does to his pulse. “What? But, dude, you just got here!”

“I know, but this wasn't meant to be a long trip. I’m sorry.” He really is sorry, hating the fact that they barely get time like this anymore. But there’s only so much time he can spare these days, it’s a wonder he slipped in this afternoon in the first place. “I’ll make it up to you?”

“I expect the finest chocolate money can buy, or we’re fake-breaking-up.”

Dick can’t help laughing at that, rolling off the side of the bed and making his way to where he’d dropped his backpack by Wally’s door. “Deal.” He pulls his sweater out from the bag, where he’d stuffed unceremoniously when coming into Wally’s room. No need for extra layers when you’re sitting next to a human furnace. “By the way, Bruce has that charity function in a few weeks and Alfred’s insisting that you come over for some dancing lessons if you attend it as my ‘date’...”

“You did not say anything about dancing when you brought this up, Richard.”

“It slipped my mind,  _ Wallace _ .”

“What kind of-”

“Waltz.”

“ _ Jesus _ . You know I have two left feet.”

“I’ll lead, it’ll be fine.”

“You won’t let me fall?”

“You ever doubt that before?”

The banter has been playful until now. But the question brings up memories of every moment that Dick has caught Wally before he hit the ground, and a resigned smile finds its way to Wally’s lips. “When?”

“Tuesday work for you?”

“It should.”

“Thank god, I really didn’t want to go to this thing alone  _ again _ .” Dick turns around to grab his coat from the hook next to the light switch, feeling far more confident about this entire ordeal than he had when he first got here. 

He should’ve known that wouldn’t last long.

“Wait, hang on- before you go, what was our first kiss like?”

Dick feels eternally grateful that he’s facing the wall and not Wally when he asks that question. He pauses, one arm in his coat sleeve and biting his lip when something burns inside his chest. It takes him longer than he’d like to admit to answer, glancing over his shoulder as he finally shrugs the old black bomber jacket on over his hoodie. “Um. Good, I guess?”

Wally rolls his eyes, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and getting to his feet. “No, man, I mean… Like, how would we describe it?  _ Someone’s  _ gonna ask about it, I  _ know  _ you’ve seen The Proposal and we don’t want that incident happening without a script.”

Dick huffs, turning around and masking whatever the sensation in his stomach is with frustration. “Magical. Life-changing. The ultimate kiss.” 

Wally’s grin is far too cocky for Dick’s liking. “That good, huh? I must be a pretty great kisser.”

“Sure.” Dick scoffs. Not a good idea to linger on that thought.

Not that Wally has any plans to change the subject. “Excuse you, I’ll have you know that plenty of my previous partners had only good things to say about my mouth.”

Dick schools his expression into one of exasperated indifference, trying not to linger on the thought of Wally’s previous partners either. Or that particular choice of words. “Who said you’re the one making this kiss so mind-blowing, hm?”

“You did, babe.” 

He’s pretty sure his stomach drops to the floor in the same moment that his brain short-circuits. Wally’s smug smile is plastered across his face and Dick finds himself caught between wanting to smack it off or kissing him just to prove a point. Eventually, after a long second of open-mouthed silence, Dick manages to sputter out a response.

“I didn’t-- I was referring to--... I’m sorry, but,  _ babe _ ?”

That ridiculous grin just seems to get wider. “Yeees?”

Dick leans his head back to stare at the ceiling, wondering who he pissed off enough to earn this torment. “I swear to god-”

“I like pet names.” Wally cuts him off, shrugging. “If we’re doing this, you better get used to it.”

“You’re gonna start calling me ‘babe’.”

“Got a problem with that?”

**_Yes_ ** . 

“No.”

“Good. So, I say that I kissed you first.”

Dick’s never really had a hard time keeping up with Wally. Their natural banter and repartee has always been a part of their friendship and Dick has never had an issue before. But now it’s like every word from Wally’s mouth is pulling the rug out from under Dick’s feet and he’s falling harder each time he hits the ground. 

“Uhm- wh-” Dick stutters, hating his tongue for failing him now, and clears his throat in the most dignified way he can manage while trying not to blush to the tips of his ears. “Why do you say that?”

Wally steps a little closer, folding his arms across his chest. He’s getting dangerously close now, Dick can feel his usual warmth radiating off him already. “I mean, I have to thank you for such a nice first date somehow, don’t I?”

“I guess… so.” Dick murmurs, exhaling harshly when Wally takes another step, stopping in front of him. 

Wally’s only a little bit taller than Dick, but it’s much more obvious when he’s standing this close. Dick wouldn’t be able to even raise a hand without it brushing against his chest. Not that that would be bad. Right? Dick’s not sure, his brain’s a little foggy now with Wally gazing down at him like that. 

Like he’s about to lean in and thank him properly here and now. 

As if Dick had said that out loud, Wally shrugs again. “Y’know, someone will probably suggest that we kiss at some point. Like, for a picture or something.”

“Probably.” Dick considers himself lucky that a word had come out or his mouth and not a squeak. 

“If that was our first real kiss, it would pretty obvious, don’t you think?” Wally’s arms drop to their sides, his fingers brushing against Dick’s knuckles as they fall. His voice is low, almost a whisper now even though they’re alone.

Dick swallows hard. “I-”

“Maybe we should get that out of the way first.” Wally mutters. He tilts his head to the side, eyes lidded, and Dick’s having trouble meeting them. “Y’know, so we’re prepared.”

“Prepared?”

“Yeah. So it looks good, if we ever have to kiss on demand.”

Dick breathes out a laugh, noticing the slight twitch at the corner of Wally’s mouth when he does, because he can’t seem to not look at Wally’s mouth now. He’s got a tiny freckle on his top lip, just under his cupid’s bow, and Dick wonders how he never noticed that before. “On demand? You know we don’t have to do anything we don’t want to.”

“You don’t want to kiss your boyfriend?” 

The silence that falls when Dick doesn’t respond is deafening. He knows he’s staring, and he knows that Wally is noticing that every millisecond that goes by, but he’s not entirely sure how he’s meant to go about this. There’s something clawing its way out of his chest, screaming ‘ _ god yes kiss me you animal _ ’ and something else pulling it back whispering ‘ _ he doesn’t mean it like that you absolute moron’ _ and Dick himself is stuck between them, thinking that both something’s could be right. 

So, as always, he compromises. 

Mustering up as much courage as he can while feeling so incredibly small, Dick shifts onto his toes and brushes his lips against Wally’s cheek. It’s so gentle it’s barely there, but his skin burns when it makes contact with Wally’s, and it’s got nothing to do with temperature. When he pulls back, a tiny spark of pride lights up in his chest when he sees that, for the first time this entire afternoon, he’s caught Wally off guard. 

Wally’s mouth is open, his cheeks so red they match his hair. Dick knows he probably looks the same, but something akin to bravery has managed to him from feeling the warmth in his face. They’re incredibly close to each other now, but Dick doesn’t feel uncomfortable anymore. In fact, he feels far more confident than he should, considering he’d been goaded into something so fucking risky. And so, his heart decides without his minds consent to continue the madness.

“I never said that.”

Wally’s eyes widen just a fraction, and Dick realizes that’s the closest he’s ever come to admitting his feelings to him. But he doesn’t get long to panic about that, because Wally’s glancing between his eyes and his mouth and looking for all the world like he’s about to close the short distance between them, and the second-something inside Dick’s chest decides that’s just enough recklessness for one afternoon.

So he plasters on a trademark smirk and pulls back, dropping back down on his heels with a bounce. “I really gotta go.” He says it like his heart isn’t thundering in his chest, willing him to stay. “B’s got an appointment for me that I can’t miss.”

“Uh-” Wally shakes his head as if to clear it. “Yeah. The, uh- the fitting, right?”

“Mhm.” Dick reaches down to snatch up his backpack and sling it over his shoulder. “I’ll walk myself out, don’t worry.”

“Right...”

Wally looks more dumbfounded than Dick’s seen him all day, and that little look of wonder in those green eyes makes him think that maybe one more bout of overconfidence couldn’t hurt, right? 

“I’ll see you on Tuesday-” He murmurs as he opens the door, taking an extra second to breath before glancing over his shoulder to catch Wally’s eye. “ _ babe _ .”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shall we dance?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't what's going on rn but somehow I am chugging along, full steam ahead with this fic. This chapter was incredibly fun to write and I hope it's just as fun to read! Enjoy <3
> 
> (sidenote: I discovered, as I was writing this, that Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls has a waltz beat. As that song is my #1 go-to for birdflash, you can imagine my excitement. I'm still yelling about it.)

“What are those?”

“Dance shoes.”

“Dance- there’s  _ shoes  _ for dancing?”

“Dude, they’re just dress shoes, c’mon.”

Wally stares down at the black leather oxfords in Dick’s hand. They’re a matte finish, which Dick figured would make it easier to get Wally to put them on. At least they’re not glossy, like Dick’s first pair had been. But Wally’s still looking at them like they’re about to jump out and attack him.

“It’s either you take the shoes or suffer the wrath of a disgruntled Alfred.”

Wally pauses for half a second, apparently weighing his options, then takes the shoes. Dick grins, watching his friend lean back against the wall to slip off his ratty old converse. They’re standing in the main ballroom at the manor, a room that Dick has very rarely brought Wally into. Once, when they were about 12, they’d been playing tag, and Dick had burst into this room specifically, just to see Wally slip and slide across the waxy floor. They’d had a great time chasing each other around, doing the electric slide and sock-figure-skating, until Alfred had caught them and promptly shooed them back into the front hall. It was a good memory, one that still makes Dick smile every time he passes the huge double doors.

The brand new (expensive, though he’d never tell Wally that) dress shoes look a little awkward with Wally’s blue jeans, but at least he’s wearing a button down today and not a graphic tee. Dick wouldn’t be able to hold back from taunting him if he had. 

He still manages to look cute as hell, despite his obvious discomfort. Wally agreeing to do this in the first place is doing strange things to Dick’s heart. It doesn’t help that he looks so adorably awkward. 

“So, you said we’re waltzing today?”

“Yup. You’re learning the Viennese Waltz.”

Wally glances up from tying his laces to squint at Dick in confusion. “What’s the difference between that and a regular waltz?”

“It’s faster.”

Wally blanches. “Faster?”

“I figured you’d appreciate that.”

Groaning, Wally pulls the last knot tight and stands up straight. “ _ Why _ would you think that?”

“You’re a speedster, I thought going  _ slow  _ would make things harder on you.” Dick shoves his hands in his pockets, suddenly very interested in a particular board in the hardwood floor. “Besides, it’s not like we have much of a choice in the matter.” He’s mumbling, disgruntled now at the thought. 

“What do you mean?” 

Dick shrugs, . “We just… have to. It’s sort of an obligation, for me, and as my ‘date’ it is for you as well.” 

As Bruce’s eldest ward - a.k.a the ward of the primary benefactor of the event - Dick is quite used to being paraded around during these sorts of things. It’s customary for him to perform one of the first dances of the evening. As a kid, he’d loved it. Dancing with Babs had been fun, and she had always been his partner for these events growing up. Everything else about them was a drag, but at least he got to perform - to  _ move _ \- at one point of the night. Now that he’s older, it’s less of a reprieve from the boring evening and feeling more and more like just another thing he has no control over.

But going with Wally, of all people- the thought of Wally being there at all, dressed in tails and gloves and glowing under the chandeliers… Dick can feel his cheeks warming at the idea alone. 

Wally rolls his eyes. “So, we  _ have  _ to do a stupid dance just because Bruce is a big shot?”

“That is precisely why you must do a ‘stupid dance’, Master Wallace.”

Dick and Wally both turn to the door, finding Alfred walking towards them with such purpose that Dick can feel Wally straightening his posture beside him. He fights the urge to smile at the sudden embarrassment  on Wally’s face.

“Hey Al, uh… sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I know exactly what you meant, young man.” Alfred replies, hands clasped behind his back. “Unfortunately, this particular event does require you to learn a very old and very  _ distinguished  _ dance for the sake of high society. Fortunately, however, you are partnered with Master Richard, and therefore you are at a much greater advantage than any of your peers.”

“I am?”

Dick breathes out a laugh, shaking his head at the butler. He’d always said that while Bruce was a perfectly good dancer in his own right, Dick outshone his talents by a long shot. He’d always loved how quickly Dick took to each dance he’d taught him, and a sense of pride rolls off him in waves whenever he talks about it.

“Yes. Young Master Richard is an excellent dancer.”

Wally turns to Dick now, a look of quiet surprise and curiosity in his eyes. “You are?”

“I guess.” Dick shrugs, a tightness growing in his chest the longer Wally gazes at him like that. “I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. It’s almost like… flying, in a way. It’s easy.”

“I never knew that.”

“You never asked.”

They’re watching each other now, oddly cautious and wondrous at the same time, the space between them almost tangible in its intensity.

Ever since that afternoon, when he’d walked out of Wally’s room with a ballsy one liner and a kiss to his cheek, Dick’d had heart palpitations whenever he thought about it. Every time Wally texted him, his pulse raced. He wondered if Wally would bring it up, if he’d call him out on such obvious flirting. He never did. 

So now, together in person for the first time since that day, there’s a uneasiness between them. Dick had wondered if this whole thing was going to push Wally away, if he’d gone too far before and pressed upon a boundary that they’d never actually set. But Wally’s here, wearing dress shoes and worn old jeans and looking at Dick like he’s seeing him for the first time, and Dick wonders how the hell he’s going to spend the next few hours pressed chest-to-chest with him. 

“Not to worry, Master Wallace. He will not let you fall, despite any of your best efforts to do so.”

Alfred’s voice breaks the spell, both of them blinking at each other a few times as they register what he said. Then Wally lets a small smile pull at the corners of his mouth. 

“Yeah, I know that much.”

For a few seconds, Dick forgets how to breath.

“Right, shall we get on with it?”

Alfred guides them through the steps - all the turns, the pivots, guiding them along with a simple ‘1, 2, 3’ count that Dick keeps up with easily. It’s getting Wally to step along with him that’s the hard part. 

The first few tries end up in tangled legs and one awkward slip that forces Dick to catch Wally just before he hits the floor. They both go a little red at the proximity, Dick’s grip tight around Wally’s waist as he straightens them quickly back into a standing position. Though Wally’s a bit taller than him, Dick has no issue lifting him as the dance requires, and when Wally slips, Dick holds him close. Wally murmurs a thank you, teeth toying with his lower lip as he glares down at his feet in concentration. Dick doesn’t let himself think too long about the blush rising up Wally’s neck every time Dick places a hand on his back. 

At least, for once in this whole messed up situation, Dick is in a place where he’s comfortable. He knows what he’s doing, the movement coming as naturally to him as breathing. He doesn’t have to think about it. Wally, on the other hand, is so far out of his comfort zone that Dick can see it in every twitch of his expression. Dick thought it might make him feel a little better, having Wally finally be the one off his game. But watching Wally get more and more frustrated with himself is worse than having that feeling himself. 

When Wally’s stomach finally complains at the lack of compensation for all this wasted energy, Alfred halts them mid-step. Dick releases his hold on Wally’s warm palm, standing back a few inches. The relief rushing over Wally when they stop is palpable, and Dick feels a wave of sympathy for his friend.

“It’s probably about time for a break.” Alfred notes, looking as relaxed and impassive as he had two hours ago. There’s not much that can shake his cool, Dick knows, especially not two idiot boys  _ literally  _ dancing circles around each other. He gestures towards the door. “I’ll prepare a late lunch for us, and after that we can get back to it. You  _ are  _ getting better, Master Wallace. It just takes practice.”

Wally’s sitting down on the waxy ballroom floor now, elbows on his knees. He nods in Alfred’s direction, but he doesn’t say anything in return.

“We’ll catch up in a minute, Al.” Dick responds, glancing between his friend and the old man.  “I just want to try the natural turn one more time. I think we can do it.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Once Alfred has left the room, Dick drops to sit down in front of Wally, mirroring his position. 

“You’re not gonna keep making me do it, are you?”

Dick smiles and shakes his head. “No. We’ve put you through enough for now.”

“Thank god.” Wally groans, flopping backwards to lay flat on the floor, legs still bent at the knee.

“You okay?”

Wally doesn’t answer right away, instead covering his face with both hands. Dick just sits there and waits, not pressing the matter. “Just… frustrated.” He finally mutters, his voice muffled.

“I know,” Dick rests a hand on Wally’s knee, squeezing it in reassurance. “but it really does just take practice. It took me a while to get the waltz down-”

Wally scoffs, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Yeah, right.” 

He frowns, prodding Wally’s thigh with his index finger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like you ever had any trouble with this, you’re like a freakin-” Wally stops himself with a frustrated huff. 

Dick pretends not to notice the slight bit of resentment in his voice. “I’m like a freakin’ what?”

“You just… I’m  _ trying  _ to picture you being bad at this to make me feel better, and I can’t.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Don’t.” The bite of the word is softened when Wally stretches out to jab his toe against Dick’s thigh, the stirrings of a smile playing at his lips. 

Dick smacks his foot away, eliciting a proper grin from Wally, and stands up with an extended hand. “C’mon twinkle toes, let’s get some food in you. It might help your dancing if you’re not picturing me as a hot dog the entire time.”

The comment manages to pry a genuine laugh from him, and the sound fills Dick’s chest with warmth. Wally takes his hand and lets Dick pull him to his feet, their grasp lingering for just a moment before Dick breaks the link. Dick starts to lead the way towards the door, but Wally doesn’t follow. He rubs the back of his neck, staring down at the floor almost sheepishly. 

Dick raises an eyebrow in silent question when Wally glances back up at him. 

“Sorry,” He starts, voice low and soft. “You know how I get when I… when I can’t get something right.”

“I know.” And he does. He’s known Wally long enough to see the ugly side of him a few times. Wally’s gotten frustrated like this in Dick’s presence before - which is why he’d stayed back to check on him in the first place.

“It’s not-”

“I know, Walls.” Dick raises a hand to stop him, and Wally sighs in relief when Dick smiles. “It’s okay.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s all good.”

They start to head towards the door, Wally falling into step beside him as they walk in silence. Dick sneaks a glance at him, his heart clenching at how dejected Wally still looks. That expression doesn’t belong on Wally’s face. Dick doesn’t like it.

His own frustration with the afternoon has nothing to do with Wally’s talent - or lack thereof - but rather how infuriatingly out of sync they are. They’re always moved together flawlessly, barely sharing a look between them to know what the other is thinking. For years, every time he’s looked at Wally, everything else has fallen away, leaving just the two of them to figure each other out. It’s saved them on many an occasion.

Dick doesn’t understand why that doesn’t seem to apply here.

Looking around the empty room for some kind of explanation, realization hits him like a train. Maybe that’s exactly the issue. 

They haven’t been  _ alone _ .

“Wait...” Dick reaches out and takes hold of Wally’s wrist, pulling him to a halt. Wally looks at him curiously. “Can I- Can we actually try one more time? I have an idea.”

Wally pauses, then takes a cautious step towards him. “What did you have in mind?”

Dick’s hand slips from Wally’s wrist to squeeze his palm. They’re both still a little warm and sweaty, but Dick’s hold is tight and sure. “Let me try something different. Do you trust me?”

Wally looks down their joined hands for a moment, a beat passing that sets Dick’s heart on edge, before he takes another step forward and places his free hand on Dick’s shoulder. His voice is breathy when he speaks. “Always.”

The admission sends Dick’s pulse into overdrive, and he really hopes that Wally can’t feel it racing between their palms. He slides his other hand up Wally’s side to the correct position, and takes a shallow breath. “Okay. Try not to think about the steps. You do that, and things get complicated. You  _ know  _ the technical part now, the important thing is that you follow my lead. Can you do that?”

“I… I don’t know how.” Wally admits, cheeks flushed.

Dick squeezes his hand again, pulling Wally just a little bit closer to his chest. “Just concentrate on me, okay?”

Wally nods. Dick flashes him a small smile, which Wally returns after a moment, then begins to rock them side to side. He doesn’t move their feet, doesn’t push or pull Wally very far in either direction. He just guides them into a gentle sway, almost like a high school slow dance. Dick keeps his gaze locked on Wally’s, holding him true to his promise, making sure that Wally is focused on him and nothing else. His thumb grazes over Wally’s side, rubbing a gentle pattern there until he feels Wally relax in his hold.

This is easy. This is  _ them _ . Dick knows Wally trusts him, that he’d never let him fall or make a fool of himself- at least not now. And Dick trusts that Wally will let him do this, without question or conflict. The tension from before slips away. The tightness in his chest that’s always there when he looks at Wally these days starts to fade. All of a sudden, Dick feels like he’s 12 years old again, playing games with his best friend in a way that won’t break his heart.

Dick glances down at their feet with a wide grin, and watches Wally do the same to realize that they’re _[moving.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dy_eP-mqWow)_

_ 1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3…  _

They’re twirling around the dance floor, not nearly as fast as the Viennese waltz calls for, but they’re  _ moving _ . They’re  _ dancing _ . Their steps fall perfectly in sync with each other, no tangling legs or stumbling feet. Dick turns him on the third step when Wally looks back up, keeping their eyes locked as he guides him backwards. Wally moves with him, letting Dick lead the way. Trusting him to take them where they need to go. 

_ 1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3…  _

Wally gazes at him in such wide-eyed wonder that Dick wants to yank them to a halt and kiss him silly. But that would mean he wouldn’t be dancing with Wally anymore, and Wally looks so incredulous and proud and absolutely gorgeous that Dick couldn’t stop now if he wanted to. He  _ doesn’t  _ want to stop. Doesn’t want to look away from Wally looking at him like that. 

_ 1, 2, 3… 1, 2, 3…  _

He wants to bottle this moment and keep it forever. 

“Lunch is served, young mast- oh!”

Alfred’s voice from the doorway startles them enough that Wally trips over Dick’s extended leg. He lets out a yelp of surprise as he starts to go down, but as promised, Dick catches him again. They stumble a little, the soles of Wally’s new shoes slipping on the waxed floors as he tries to regain his footing, but Dick holds him steadily horizontal. It’s almost like a dip, and Dick can’t help his breathy chuckle when he makes the comparison. 

Wally lifts his head at the sound, their eyes meeting, and Dick swears that Wally’s gaze flicks down to his mouth for just a second. His breath hitches in his throat, thinking that this would be a picture-perfect moment for a kiss. It would be so easy to close the few inches between them, their breath already mingling. Wally’s grip tightening on his biceps, Dick feels himself lean in just the slightest bit, almost involuntarily. 

Then a quiet “ahem” from their right has reality slamming back into him, and he’s pulling Wally quickly to his feet and clearing his own throat. He wonders how long they stood there, staring at each other like that. He hopes it wasn’t long enough for Alfred to notice their little… moment. 

Alfred’s face reveals nothing, but Dick knows better than to believe his hoping isn’t in vain.

“Well,” The old butler claps his hands together as he walks further into the room, causing Wally to jump ever-so-slightly. “This is wonderful! Well done, Master Richard. I knew if anyone could instill a sense of grace upon Master Wallace, it would be you.”

Wally still seems a bit winded, since he doesn’t react right away to Alfred’s teasing jab. Or maybe he just doesn’t hear it, Dick’s not sure. They’re still holding each other, Wally panting a little from his slip, and Dick doesn’t know if he should move away yet or not. Wally hasn’t. 

Realizing it’s been several seconds since anyone has spoken, Dick clears his throat again. “Uh- yeah, well, it just took a little bit of, um…” Dick swallows, chancing a look up at Wally and feeling his heart leap when they lock eyes again. “Trust.”

“Of course, that  _ is  _ the first rule of any dance-  _ always  _ trust your partner.” Alfred nods to himself. “Now, before we get back to it, I suggest the two of you make your way to the dining room. There are several platters of sandwiches waiting for you. Once you’ve had your fill, we’ll start working on the rest of the performance - with music.”

Wally blinks, finally tuning into the conversation and tearing his gaze from Dick’s. “Uh, wait. Performance?”

“Yes, sir. Your performance at the event will be the highlight of the evening. I can just tell, watching the two of you now.” Alfred, apparently unaware of the effect of his words on Wally, turns back towards the door. “I hope to see the two of you eating within the next five minutes, or we start again without the food, if neither of you are as hungry as I’d thought.”

“Sure, Alfred, be right there.” Dick murmurs, too focused on Wally’s suddenly panicked expression to say much else. Once the butler leaves the room again, Dick squeezes Wally’s hand in his. “Hey, it’s gonna be-”

“You never said anything about ‘performing’.” 

Dick starts a little at Wally’s tone, the comment far more clipped than he’d been expecting after… well, after all of that. “I told you we’d be dancing at the event, that’s-”

“Yeah, dancing. Like, around other people -  _ among  _ other people.” He’s talking faster now, the muscles around his shoulder blade tensing under Dick’s palm. “I didn’t think anyone would be watching.”

“Wally-”

“I can’t do that, I can barely get  _ this  _ part of it down. You expect me to just- just prance around like you do? Like- like-” 

“Wally, wally, hey-” Dick hushes him, dropping his hand to instead reach up and cup his cheeks. He forces Wally’s head down just a bit, just to get him to look down at meet Dick’s eyes. “It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine. We can do this.”

Wally lets out a shaky breath, and Dick notices that he’s got a death grip on his wrists. “...how do you know?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

It’s risky, calling him out like that. It shouldn’t be, but it feels that way. Like Wally’s panic will override how he feels about Dick -  _ whatever  _ he feels about Dick. Dick doesn’t know what’s changed between them, but it’s like something has shifted. He’s just not sure which direction, yet. So he lets himself smile just a bit as he speaks, watching every twitch of Wally’s expression for a sign of rejection that he’s hoping won’t come.

Wally’s gaze softens almost immediately. The tension in his shoulders drops, the tight lines around his eyes disappearing as his head tips forward in earnest. “You know I do.” 

Dick has to take a second to find his voice, Wally’s admission and the sensation of his thumbs rubbing gently over Dick’s wrists sending his heart rocketing into his throat. “Then trust me now.” He finally murmurs, barely a whisper. “I’ve never let you down before, have I?”

He half expects Wally to fire back with a ‘there’s a first time for everything’, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he just shakes his head, almost imperceptibly. A beat passes between them, a second of clarity showing him just how close they are now. All he’d have to do is tilt his head up just a fraction, and they’d be kissing. It’s almost like the last time, that incredible confidence that Wally somehow instills in him suddenly setting fire to his skin. 

How many times today have they been this close? How many missed opportunities to finally admit to Wally how he feels? It’s so similar and yet wildly different to the way he’d felt before. Last time it was about one-upping Wally. About beating him at his own game. Now, all he wants to do is comfort him - to  _ show  _ him how much trust he can put in Dick. How much Dick means it when he says he’ll never let him fall.

All he’d have to do is move. 

… and then Wally’s stomach growls so loudly and so violently between them that Dick feels the vibration against his own abdomen. The moment disappears almost as quickly as it had come, the both of them glancing down at the source of the noise and knocking their foreheads together by accident. They bonk noses, Wally laughing in embarrassment and letting go of Dick’s wrists. 

Dick lets him slip away, dropping his hands to his sides. There’s a second where he mourns the loss of that moment, before all the confidence drains from his system and he’s left with the burning realization that he’d almost kissed Wally. Again. 

“Better catch up with Alfred.” Wally murmurs, a hand running through his ruffled red curls. Dick pushes down the urge to reach out and card his own fingers through it. “I really don’t want to know what he’d make us do if we don’t eat.”

“He’d make you dance until you dropped dead of starvation, that’s what he’d do.” His own ability to speak surprises Dick. He’s lucky his wit is the first thing to recover from this emotional roller coaster.

Wally laughs, clear as a bell in the empty, echoing room around them, and nudges Dick to fall into step beside him. Dick manages to keep at least half a foot of space between them now, deciding that the close proximity is what’s been causing him to  _ lose his damn mind.  _

_ Kissing Wally. Bad idea.  _ Bad  _ idea, Dick. Don’t dwell on it.  _

“Hey…” 

Wally’s voice brings him out of his own head. Dick glances over at him in the most nonchalant way he can manage. “Hm?”

Wally’s rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, his shoulders hunching in. “Thanks…”

Dick blinks. “For what?”

He can’t help but notice the blush rising up from beneath Wally’s collar, his eyes fixed on that point the second they land there. “For… for catching me.”

When Wally finally looks over to meet his eyes, Dick’s gaze snaps up from where it’d been focused, and when he finds the earnest look in those deep green irises, his mouth goes a little dry. 

Dammit. How could he not want to kiss Wally, when Wally keeps looking at him like  _ that? _

“Of course.” Dick murmurs, tearing his gaze from Wally’s and pretending it doesn’t feel like his heart is tearing in two. “What are-... what are friends for?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night to remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright y'all, I hope you're settled in for a long ass chapter, cuz that's what you're gettin' today! This one took a little longer to get out, because I've decided I need to give myself the time to find my mistakes and fix them before I toss my work out into the world. You're getting better quality shit from now on, my dudes, I promise. Speaking of which, a big shout out to my friends Ash (@flashhwing) and Jacqui, who were my readers, editors, and confidants through this whole thing. It wouldn't be what it is without them <3
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys like this chapter, and bask in the nostalgia as much as I did. Cuz I had an absolute blast with this.
> 
> Enjoy!

“You owe me ten bucks.”

“What?”

“Look, behind the silver hatchback.”

Wally glances over his shoulder to peer out the window next to him. Lo and behold, a small group of reporters were huddled behind a Toyota Corolla across the road from the restaurant he and Dick were currently sitting in. “Shit. How the hell did they even figure out where we were?”

Dick grins. “Ah, the wonders of the internet.”

All it had taken was a well-timed instagram post: a picture of Wally, positively glowing in the warm light of the restaurant and smiling bashfully into his drink, with a few heart emojis as the caption. Dick had bet that after he posted it, it would take less than half an hour for the paparazzi to show up. Wally hadn’t believed him. And despite no location or tags included in the post, here they were twenty minutes later, cameras flashing from across the street. 

Wally huffs in disbelief as he turns back around, carving out a piece of the cheesecake sitting on the table between them and popping it in his mouth. “Do they not have anything better to do than follow you around all day?”

“Oh, they can’t follow me around all day.” Dick replies, pushing a stray raspberry around the plate with his spoon. “They only find me when I want them to. Or when I’m careless.”

“Like that day at the diner?”

“Exactly.” He points at Wally with the spoon. “Although I still blame that entire ordeal on you.”

Dick had managed to reserve them a window table, which would have made this moment unbearable at any other point in the evening, but as their meal was coming to an end, he figured that a little bet to quash Wally’s skepticism couldn’t hurt. They were meant to be doing this for publicity anyway, so he knew that the paparazzi would have to show up at some point.

That didn’t mean they had to be there the whole time though. Dick figured that if they were going to do this, at the very least he could enjoy it.

For their very first ‘fake-date’, Dick had settled on taking Wally to one of his favourite places in the city; a little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant that Bruce had been taking him to since he was a kid. The maître d' had set the two of them up in the ‘red room’, an aptly named area of the restaurant with burgundy walls and large, deep brown curtains draped around the windows. There were only a few tables in this room, each one different, with artfully mismatched chairs and set with a single candle. It was charmingly small without feeling cramped, and with soft Neapolitan music playing in the background, it feels just cheesy enough for Dick to keep his head on straight.

It’s nothing too fancy, but the food is great and he’s always appreciated the discretion of the staff whenever he and Bruce come to visit. Dick never felt like he was being watched here, a rare occurrence in Gotham, and although he’d compromised that usual sense of privacy tonight, at least he had some semblance of control over it.

Wally shrugs, waving his utensil like a white flag. “Alright, fair enough, I might’ve been a little naive about it that day. I thought you were exaggerating though.” When Dick opens his mouth for a sassy retort, Wally interrupts him before he has the chance. “But I’ve been proven wrong! Your life is insane and I should’ve trusted you.”

Dick grins, smug as anything. “So you’re saying I was right?”

“In so many words.” 

“You’re impossible.”

“Thank you.” Wally winks, and that simple action shouldn’t make Dick’s heart stutter the way it does. 

Dick swipes up the last raspberry before admitting defeat, letting Wally polish off the last of the cheesecake. When their server, Aldo, comes back to clear their plate, Dick asks for the check and deftly takes it before Wally has the chance to. They’re in his city, at the restaurant of his choice (which he knew soared out of Wally’s price range when he picked it), so there’s no way he’s letting Wally pay. Despite the look of quiet disapproval from his ‘date’.

“So…” Wally swirls around the last few ice cubes left at the bottom of his glass, pursing his lips. “Since they’re here now… Should we play this up a little?”

Dick pauses, looking up from his wallet and placing his credit card on the billfold. “What do you mean?”

Wally doesn’t answer. Instead, he catches Dick’s hand after it drops the card, grasping it in his own. Dick narrows his eyes, feigning distrust to hide the sudden spike in his heart rate. A small, smug smile spreads across Wally’s lips, and then he’s pressing them to the back of Dick’s hand for a kiss so gentle that Dick can barely feel it - just barely. 

He’s leaning far enough across the table that anyone watching through the window could see what he was doing, clear as day. Dick notices the obnoxious flashing lights in his peripheral and outright ignores them. There’s a ridiculous fluttering in his chest and his stomach, just from that feather-light touch. Wally’s eyes are gazing so cheekily over his knuckles, such a dark green in the dim lamp light around them that Dick can almost convince himself that Wally isn’t playing around. That this isn’t just meant for the cameras. He can almost convince himself that this date is  _ real _ .

Almost.

Until their server slips their paid bill back onto the table and the spell breaks, Wally letting go of his hand and leaning back in his seat. Dick is grateful for the interruption, taking a shallow breath as he thanks Aldo and rises from his chair, Wally following suit. When they finally leave the restaurant to be greeted by the cool Gotham air, it shocks reality back into him - that little bit of sense he needs to remember that all of this is just pretend. The paparazzi apparently believe themselves to be hidden behind the tiny sedan across the street, holding back from revealing themselves while Dick pulls out his phone to call a cab.

That is, of course, until Wally decides to curl an arm around his waist from behind and pull Dick’s back flush against his chest. He rests his chin on Dick’s shoulder, the gesture sweet and coupley and extremely casual to anyone watching. 

“Oh, you’ve done it now.” Dick breathes, closing his eyes in exasperation and completes the image by laying his hand over Wally’s at his hip.

He lets the reporters think they have the element of surprise as they start to pop out from behind the car, plastering on the most shocked expression he can muster and stumbling deliberately back into Wally. The ginger steadies him easily and lets out an exaggerated gasp when he ‘notices’ the mob coming towards them. Grabbing Wally’s hand, Dick takes off running down the street and drags his fake boyfriend along with him. They fall into step seamlessly as Wally catches up to him in seconds. Dick can’t help laughing as the paparazzi give chase. With Dick’s stamina and Wally being, well,  _ Wally _ , the distance between themselves and the group behind them grows comically fast.

Dick catches Wally by the wrist as they dash around the corner, yanking him into the darkness of an alleyway. He clamps a hand over Wally’s mouth, pulls him behind the shelter of a dumpster, and shoves him against the wall. The shadows mask his expression, but Dick can feel Wally’s chest shaking with suppressed laughter, can feel the smile under his palm. Dick tries to hide the grin spreading across his lips but can’t help the giggles bubbling through his soft, “shh… shh!” as he leans his forehead against the back of his hand, the other gripping the edge of Wally’s sweater in the effort it takes to stay quiet.

A blur of silhouettes runs through the light of the streetlamp. The fading sound of thundering feet on pavement signals the paparazzi passing by, not having noticed the two of them turning into the alleyway. After a few minutes - six and a half, to be exact - the quiet sounds of the city return, no longer drowned out by the hollering of the photographers. Eventually, Dick lets his hand drop from Wally’s mouth, resting it on his shoulder instead. 

“I’m getting an odd sense of deja vu...” Wally whispers, his words muffled against Dick’s temple. 

The sensation of Wally’s lips on his skin, for the second time that night, sends heat flaring through the pit of his stomach and a shiver down his spine. After a moment, Dick notices that in the time it took for the paps to disappear, Wally’s arms had looped their way around his waist, holding him close.

Dick huffs, his face flushing. “We do seem to find ourselves in alleyways more often lately.”

Wally’s chuckle is deep and sends warmth from the top of Dicks’s head straight down to his toes. “Hey, I’m not complaining.”

_ That’s right, you aren’t. _ Dick thinks.  _ Why is that? _

Dick’s leaning heavily against Wally’s chest, standing between his legs without realizing it. He’s pressing Wally up against the wall with almost his entire body weight, but the redhead doesn’t seem to mind. The proximity has his pulse jumping, Wally’s body heat overwhelming. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla and something else warm that he can’t put his finger on is taking over Dick’s senses, and he wants to bury himself in this feeling somewhere just short of forever.

Finding the strength to pull himself away takes some effort, but eventually he does. Wally’s arms drop to his sides instantly, letting Dick put some space between them. It’s the last thing Dick  _ wants  _ to do, but it’s what he  _ should  _ do if he wants to get through the rest of this night unscathed. 

Dick clears his throat and wills the blood to leave his cheeks. “The coast should be clear now, we can probably get going.” 

Wally pushes off from the wall, shoving his hands in his pockets. “If you think so.”

The distance between them feels wrong now, somehow, an air of hesitation hanging over their heads. When Dick lifts a hand to push his bangs out of his eyes, that familiar scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafts from the edge of his sleeve. They stood like that for so long that now  _ he  _ smells like Wally. He pushes the implications of that to the back of his mind, but they set off a chain reaction all the same.

Doing his best  _ not  _ to think about how nicely he fit there in Wally’s arms, about how cold he feels now that there’s several feet between them, Dick furthers that distance and steps carefully towards the entrance of the alleyway, peering out onto the street. “Yeah, looks like they’re gone.” 

Wally follows him back out onto the sidewalk, the silence thick as they fall into step together. Though they’re standing side by side again, it feels like they’re miles apart, and Dick can’t stand it. Everything about this plan of theirs is making it harder and harder to act like he’s not head over heels for the boy next to him. Dick hates that being best friends with Wally is suddenly difficult - just standing beside him takes a tremendous amount of effort in a way that it never had before. Every touch measured, every word calculated, so Dick never gives away more than he means to. It’s exhausting.

Because now he can touch Wally the way he  _ wants  _ to, he can say things he means so earnestly it hurts, but none it means anything at all. 

It’s fake. It’s a joke. And that might just break him. 

But for now, Wally is breaking the silence with a dramatic sigh, so Dick turns his attention away from his heartache and focuses on the source of it. 

“Well, that was fun.” Wally remarks with a bemused smile. “We should do it again sometime.”

Dick huffs out a laugh, though that particular phrase sends a bolt of both misery and elation through his chest. But he knows Wally doesn’t mean it that way. “Are you referring to the three course meal or the casual jog?”

“Both, I guess.” He chuckles, staring bashfully at the pavement.. “I dunno, it’s been a while. I forgot how much fun a first date can be.”

Dick bites the inside of his cheek so hard it might bleed. “Yeah, well, when you’re on a date with your best friend it’s hard not to have fun.”

The second the words are out of his mouth, Dick freezes, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. Only after hearing himself speak does it register just how that might sound. Dick knows that Wally is watching him now, and hesitates to meet his eye for fear of what his expression might show. But not looking at Wally would be suspicious anyway, so eventually he does.

Wally’s expression reveals nothing, that unreadable gaze once again fixed on Dick so firmly it’d be infuriating if it wasn’t so damn unsettling on Wally’s face. Not being able to read Wally has Dick uncomfortable in a way that makes him want to start rambling just to get a reaction out of him. And then, because Dick needs one more shock to his system tonight, Wally smiles so beautifully that it knocks the air from his lungs.

It’s the kind of smile that starts small, and then grows until it reaches his eyes and crinkles the corners, and making those green irises shine in the moonlight that barely peeks out through the Gotham smog. His freckled cheeks are rosy with blush, and Dick’s heart stutters when he thinks about what that blush could mean. Wally opens his mouth to speak, but before he has a chance to, a shout breaks through the quiet night and has them both jumping in surprise. 

About a block behind them, that same group of ragtag paparazzi reappears and begins to race towards them, cameras and notepads at the ready. Dick has never been grateful for the press before, but he supposes there’s a first time for everything. He’s not sure if he wants to know what Wally was going to say.

This time, it’s Wally who’s grabbing Dick by the hand and breaking into a flat-out run. Dick doesn’t resist the pull, laughing breathlessly once again as the adrenaline returns. Neon lights and window signs start to blur at the edges of his vision, the cool wind making his eyes water and chest ache in the best way. Wally’s grip is warm and sure around Dick’s palm as they tear down the sidewalk, but Dick is well aware that Wally has no idea where he’s going, and wonders if he should take the lead again.

Before he can decide, Wally whips around the next corner and takes Dick along with him. He can hear the sound of the reporters not too far behind, but they’ve by no means caught up with them yet. Without warning, Wally turns into the vestibule of the first open storefront he sees and shoves Dick inside the building before he can even think to protest. Wally yanks the door closed behind them, pulling Dick away from the entrance and watching the window for any sign of their pursuers.

They’re both holding back laughter, squeezing tight to the other’s hand while they wait, and without either of them having to try, things feel right again. In this moment, with a stupid grin and gasping for breath, Dick can let himself enjoy being this close to Wally. Just for a little while. 

Dick doesn’t know how long they stand there, but enough minutes pass for him to catch his breath before either of them decide to move. 

“Think they’re gone?” Wally asks. He leans a little closer to the window for a better look outside.

“Maybe.” Dick murmurs, his throat a bit dry from the cold air. “But we thought that last time.”

“True. Should we keep waiting it out?”

“Might as well.” Giving himself one last second to enjoy it, Dick squeezes Wally’s hand once more before letting go. 

The shop is dimly lit, a common occurrence in Gotham, though the place seems decently kept despite the fair amount of dust. The low ceiling makes the room more cramped than it would be otherwise, although the labyrinth of tables doesn’t help much. Glancing at the shelves and boxes surrounding them, Dick realizes they’ve stumbled into a music store. 

“Hey, check it out-” Wally seems to have the same thought, reaching into a haphazardly stacked box of CDs and pulling one out. 

Dick smiles at the familiar blue cover. “Still the best Killers album, don’t care what anyone says.”

“The only song that even came close to ‘Mr. Brightside’ was ‘When You Were Young’ and I stand by that.”

Dick laughs, snooping through another box. From what he can tell, they seem to be sorted into genres, but any other system of organization is apparently lost on the shop owners. The place feels more like someone’s forgotten attic than a music store.

“We should take a look around.” Wally continues, delving into different box, the plastic CD cases clacking together as he sifts through them. “Might find something interesting”

“Sure. You always find the coolest stuff in the weirdest places.” Dick nods, stepping around the table and finding another set of boxes. With no label, it takes Dick a bit of searching to discover that this one is country music. “Diamonds in the rough.”

Wally snickers. “Yeah, but this place is a far cry from the cave of wonders. If we find a magic lamp, I call dibs.”

Dick rolls his eyes, blowing the dust off a box lid in Wally’s face. He lets out an explosive sneeze instantly, the sound deafening in the quiet store. Though the stereo plays the dulcet tones of some Billy Joel song, the shop is still disturbingly quiet for a place that sells music. Dick and Wally stare at each other, stock-still - a knee-jerk reaction for them both in a moment when they might be in trouble - before they’re both dissolving into giggles. 

‘Shh!” Dick smacks him in the shoulder with the box lid, still laughing and leaning against the table for support. 

“What?” Wally mock-whispers, whacking the offending cardboard away and grinning from ear to ear. “What am I gonna do, wake the dead?”

“Who knows what the hell is in here!” Dick whispers back, tossing the box lid at him in a final attempt at a reprimand, which Wally deflects easily. 

“Let’s go find out!”

Despite the unsettling quiet of the place, and the knowledge that they’re in  _ Gotham  _ after all, the two of them slip into an easy rhythm while they search. They stick together, never more than a few feet apart, but step around each other easily as they delve into the content of every box with uninhibited curiosity. After about twenty minutes of rummaging around, they’ve each got a stack of CD’s clutched to their chests. 

“Oh,  _ man _ !” Wally gasps, yanking out an album with a black and white cover that Dick recognizes imeediately when he glances up. “I haven’t listened to MCR in years!”

Dick snatches the case out of his hand, opening it up to find a relatively unscratched CD inside, though it was clearly well-loved. “I still can’t believe you went through an emo phase.”

“Dude, so did you!”

“Yeah but I live in a city of permanent darkness and have a dad that moonlights as a  _ bat _ . I was destined for an emo phase.” Dick scoffs, adding the album to his steadily growing stack. “You’re a ginger from Kansas. You’re like a beacon of freakin’ joy.”

Wally is too quiet for just a moment too long, and when Dick looks up he’s greeted with such a cocky smile that he feels the sudden need to backpedal. “I’m a beacon of joy?”

Dick’s heart leaps into his throat. “You- you know what I mean.” He mumbles, ducking his head and staring a little too intently into the box in front of him. “Your face is too smiley to pull off anything close to emo.”

“At least I didn’t wear eyeliner for an entire year when I was fourteen.”

“Hey, I look good in eyeliner!” Dick retorts, jabbing a finger at Wally with a defiance that helps him will away the blush.

“Not saying you don’t!” Wally raises his free hand in surrender. “Just saying that a year of solid black makeup around your eyes made you a hell of a lot more emo than I ever was.”

“Fair enough.”

“Speaking of which-” Wally holds up a Panic! At The Disco CD with a wide grin. “I’m real glad you  _ closed the goddamn door  _ on that phase.”

Dick snorts, snatches up a CD from his stack, waving the image of Justin Timberlake in Wally’s face. “Really? I thought I was bringing sexy back.”

Wally throws his head back with laughter. “Dude, you were gonna buy that?”

“For the meme? Hell yeah.”

“Oh, we’re doing this for the meme?” Wally slides a CD out of his stack and tosses it gently across the table at Dick. “I win.”

Dick picks up the album, bursting into a fit of giggles the second he reads ‘Shrek’ in big green letters. “Where did you  _ find  _ this?” 

“I’m pretty sure the box would’ve been labelled ‘Misc.’ if labels were a thing in this place, I could not figure out a pattern to save my life.”

“And you were judging me for buying Justin Timberlake?”

“You  _ cannot  _ compare the Shrek soundtrack to Justin Timberlake. The Proclaimers are on there, you can’t beat that.”

Dick is still chuckling, reading over the tracklist on the back of the case. “I can’t believe you were going to spend money on the Shrek soundtrack.”

Wally plucks it out of his hand, adding it back into his own pile. “ _ Were? _ I’m still buying it.”

“Dude, do you even own a CD player anymore?”

“Do  _ you _ ?”

“There’s a CD player in every version of the Batmobile, I’m surprised there isn’t a fuckin’ turntable in there so B can play his jazz records.”

Wally clutches his stomach as he laughs, his cheeks flushed and smile wide. Dick can’t help but stare. He looks so good, caught up in a moment of mirth, that Dick is grateful he’s the only person who can make Wally laugh like this. It might be selfish, but he never wants to share this feeling with anyone else. 

Eventually, the two of them manage to work their way far enough into the shop that they find the register, and behind it a teenager, no older than 15, with a scowl sour enough to spoil milk. They share a tight-lipped look of amusement after saying hello to the kid, from whom they don’t get a response. Wally doesn’t mention eyeliner again, but Dick hopes to god that they didn’t hear their earlier conversation behind the stacks. Though part of him wants to advise the kid on buying better quality pencil liner, their waterline was looking splotchy already. If you’re gonna go goth, you gotta do it right.

“Hey, look.” Dick catches Wally attention from across the room, tossing him a worn cardboard box when he gets close enough. “They’ve got an old Walkman.”

“Man, I haven’t seen one of these in years.”

“You’ve said that twice tonight, you’re really aging yourself.”

“Shut up.” Wally snorts, nudging Dick with his elbow. “You think it works?”

“I hope so, it’s like forty bucks.”

“That seems reasonable.” Distracted by opening the box to inspect the object in question, he chuckles when he sees Dick’s skeptical expression. “Y’know, if it works.”

“It  _ works _ .”

They both jump at the sudden voice, whirling around to see that teenager glaring at them from behind the register. Apparently they hadn’t been speaking as quietly as he’d thought.

“Oh.” Dick glances at Wally, who looks like he’s trying desperately not to laugh, and nods as appreciatively as he can. “Uh, okay. Thanks.”

All he gets is an exasperated sigh in response. Dick smacks Wally’s arm as he shushes him, the ginger shaking with silent laughter beside him. It hadn’t been too long ago that they were just as angsty. Maybe that’s why seeing this kid is so amusing to them both - it’s like looking in a time machine. 

“Oh cool!” Wally exclaims, pulling Dick from his thoughts as he digs something out from the miscellaneous box of tech that Dick had found the Walkman in. It’s an audio jack split into two wires, with an auxiliary output on each end. “It’s an audio splitter, my great-uncle had one when I was a kid.”

Dick takes the set of wires out of Wally’s outstretched hand. “Wow, you don’t see ones like this anymore.”

“God, we sound old.”

“Shut up.” He huffs and whacks Wally in the chest with the splitter, then in a moment of spontaneity, plops it on top of his already too-tall stack of CDs. “Let’s get them.”

“What?”

Dick gestures to the items in question. “Let’s buy them, the Walkman and the splitter. We could listen to our CDs now.” He pauses, a moment of doubt sinking in his stomach “Unless... you just wanna go home, or something.”

Wally doesn’t let him feel that way for long, suddenly grinning wide. “Yeah! Let’s do it! I’ve got nowhere else I’d rather be.”

The apprehension in Dick’s chest disappears, warmth welling up inside him and his cheeks burning. He tries to play it off as excitement. “Sweet!” 

Too enraptured by the idea, they decide they’ve found enough music and make their way to the counter. The teenager, scowl firmly in place, rings through their items at a slow enough pace than Dick has to trod on Wally’s toe to stop him from bouncing on the spot. With the used Walkman and the audio splitter in hand, the two of them leave the shop with a full bag of CDs each. Dick hadn’t intended to purchase so many, but once he was on a roll he couldn’t stop finding more and more of his old favourites. 

Sure, he could download them all on his phone if he wanted to, but there was something about listening to a CD in a Walkman with your best friend that just can’t be replicated by iTunes.

Not that he  _ has  _ iTunes, or any Apple product for that matter. God, no. Wayne Tech can build anything Apple can and do it ten times better. He has the wireless earbuds to prove it, which he takes out now and plugs into the splitter. Luckily, Wayne Tech earbuds have an adapter  _ and  _ bluetooth, or else this plan wouldn’t have worked as well. 

The night is quiet again, the eerie glow of street lamps illuminating the pavement, steam rising around them from various manholes and creating that classic Gotham atmosphere that Dick has to admit, he kind of loves. It’s late enough now that most shopfronts are closed, the roads empty save for the occasional car emerging from an underground parking lot. Everyone is going home for the night. Everyone except two crazy boys, walking through the streets of Gotham at 10:37pm like that’s a good idea. 

Wally plugs the audio splitter into the Walkman, his own wire headphones already attached. He pops open the top of the old CD player and gestures to the bag hanging from Dick’s wrist. “Okay, you first.”

“Oh, that’s a lotta pressure.” Dick rummages around the bag for a while, humming and hawing until Wally lets out a sigh of exasperation, which was the reaction he’d been hoping for. Grinning, Dick finally pulls out that familiar baby blue album from before. “I mean, we kinda have to.”

“It’s only right.” Wally agrees, chuckling softly and takes the disc from Dick when he pops it out of the case. After fiddling with the latch for a second to get the lid to close, Wally skips to the [second song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dw3BsO0Q3UI) and slips the Walkman into his coat pocket. When the music starts to play, an easy smile spreads across Dick’s face as he looks up at Wally. “Well, what do you know?” Wally snickers and adjusts one of his ear buds. “It works!”

_ Coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine, gotta gotta be down because I want it all _

Dick lip syncs along to those oh-so-iconic lyrics, and he’s grinning wider when he sees Wally doing the same. It’s easy to let go and get lost in the energy of the song, tilting his head back towards the sky and singing silently to the heavens above. Before long, they’re both bobbing their heads to the beat and bouncing on their toes as the music picks up. 

_ But she's touching his chest now, he takes off her dress now, let me go... _

Dick spins around to face Wally, walking backwards along the pavement. Wally’s face is scrunched up with joy as he sings along, cheeks rosy from the cool air that he doesn’t seem to notice. Dick, too, ignores the chill, enraptured by his best friend, the both of them mouthing the lyrics at each other with wild and reckless abandon as the song flows into the chorus.

_ Jealousy, turning saints into the sea, swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis _

Wally pumps his arms in the air to every line, gesturing passionately at Dick, his eyes wide one minute and closed tightly with passion the next. He falls dramatically to his knees at one point,  desperately grasping at Dick’s forearms, and Dick’s laughing so hard it hurts, bent at the waist and clutching his stomach as Wally silently serenades him from below. There’s a special kind of exhilaration that comes with an experience like this, a glee akin to jumping on the bed as a kid, or the freedom of your first night drive with a friend, and it’s filling Dick’s chest like a balloon. It’s lucky for him that he’s gotten to have all of those experiences with the guy in front of him, whose wild curls and shimmering eyes make him look so much younger than he is now. It’s a moment that Dick never wants to forget, a snapshot in time that he hopes he can think back on someday and remember exactly how he feels right now.

_ So don't stop me now... don't stop me, 'cause I'm having a good time, having a good time! _

They take turns playing their CDs, usually skipping through to their favourite songs and definitely looking like crazy people as they run and dance down the street. Dick is grateful for his wireless headphones as he leaps atop of benches and railings, unable to contain his energy as they play song after nostalgic song. Wally matches him every step of the way. For tonight, they’re kids again, and they’re milking that for all it’s worth.

_ Back to the street where we began, feeling as good as lovers can, you know, yeah we're feeling so good _

From Panic! At The Disco, to MCR, to the goddamn Shrek soundtrack, they blast through their collection while laughing and teasing each other endlessly about the old days, about bad haircuts and embarrassing celebrity crushes. It’s easy and comfortable and fun. All of Dick’s reservations wash away as they stroll down memory lane together.

_ Remember when you were a madman, thought you was Batman, and hit the party with a gas can, kiss me you animal! _

They traipse through the streets for hours, though neither of them keep track of how long they’re out there. It’s a while before Dick realizes he’s not sure where they are, scanning their surroundings for a street sign or a landmark. It’d be easier if he were higher up, if he’s honest. He knows the city better from a bird's-eye view - pun intended. 

Then, recognizing the shape of a rusted structure as they pass yet another alleyway, a single thought forms in Dick’s mind, and he’s pulling Wally to a halt. The ginger pauses mid-step, one leg flung out in front of him as Dick yanks him backwards, quirking an eyebrow. Dick tries not to think about how cute that is. 

“What’s up?”

Dick gestures above them. “Feeling up to it?”

Wally pauses, then frowns suspiciously. “Feeling up to what…?” Dick just looks up at the rooftops, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. Wally blinks, looking up, then down the alleyway, then back at Dick before it finally dawns on him. “Oh, for fucks sake.”

Dick laughs, grabbing Wally’s wrist and tugging him into the darkness. “C’mon! It’ll be fun.”

“Oh,  _ you  _ would think so.”

“Don’t be a spoil sport!”

Getting far enough into the alleyway, the fire escape Dick had noticed comes fully into view. It doesn’t look particularly old. He thinks they might actually get to the top without anything breaking. 

“If I get tetanus after this…” 

“You will  _ not  _ get tetanus, you big baby.”

Kicking off from the wall, Dick launches himself high enough to grab onto the lowest rung, jolting the ladder to slide down the track. He climbs to the top easily, then pauses to look down at Wally, who’s watching him from the ground. With a smirk, he leans back and hangs from the top rung with one hand, gesturing to Wally with the other.

“You comin’?”

Wally tries to smother a grin into his hand, failing miserably. After a moment of deliberation, he shucks the bag of CDs off his wrist, the plastic handles wrinkled and twisted, and holds it up to Dick, who hooks one knee over a rung to hang lower and take it. Securing the Walkman in his pocket, Wally lets out a long-suffering sigh before jumping to grasp the end of the ladder. They climb together to the first level, Dick laughing as they make their way towards the sky, still bopping along to the music as the air clears more with every step.

When they finally reach the top of the fire escape, Dick hikes himself up onto the railing and scales the last few feet to the top. Flipping over the edge with natural grace, he drops the bags and leans back down to extend a hand to Wally. He takes it without hesitation, his boots scraping against the brick wall as he lets Dick pull him up. 

“Why is it that I always end up on rooftops with you?” Wally grunts, clambering over the edge easily, if not elegantly. 

Dick shrugs, dusting off his jacket and getting to his feet. “I’m a freak who likes heights, you knew that when you entered this friendship.” 

He snatches up their bags and makes his way to the other side of the roof, Wally following without question. The building isn’t the highest in the city by a long shot. Probably residential, Dick guesses, from the amount of dimly lit windows they passed on their way up. Still, there’s a decent view from up here. Sure, there’s gross, worn old billboards and flashing neon signs assaulting his retinas, but the distant windows of skyscrapers glimmer like stars, and the air is cleaner. Dick can  _ breath  _ up here, he can relax, the tension in his limbs lessening with distance from the suffocating streets below. 

Dick sits down when they reach the other side, feet dangling over the edge. Wally joins him after a moment, his shoulder bumping against Dick’s as he settles more comfortably on the hard concrete. They stare out at the shimmering city below, the one Green Day CD they bought between them playing quietly in their ears.

Pulling a candy bar out of his breast pocket, Wally peels off the wrapper and offers the first bite to Dick. 

Dick snorts, but he snaps off a piece of chocolate between his teeth anyway. “Thanks.”

Wally just quirks the corner of his mouth up in a half-smile, munching quietly on the rest of the bar. 

Everything feels soft, the sounds of the city faded from this high up - until the last note of ‘Letterbomb’ fades out and the song changes, familiar plucking of guitar strings beginning to [play](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ulRXvH8VOl8) . 

Dick’s heart clenches in his chest. He knew this song would come eventually when they started the album, but he’d gotten lost enough in the music and this whole  _ gorgeous  _ night that he’d… somehow managed to forget. He hasn’t listened to it in a long time, hasn’t thought about it. But it still manages to well up a few emotions he hadn’t anticipated feeling tonight.

_ Summer has come and passed, the innocent can never last. Wake me up when September ends... _

A warmth spreads through him when he feels Wally bump into him again, scrambling for his pocket and trying to yank the Walkman out as quickly as possible, probably to change the song. He’s been around long enough to watch Dick go from listening to this song endlessly to avoiding it at all costs. The fact that his reaction is so instantaneous is heart-warming.

Dick rests a hand on Wally’s forearm, who stills at his touch. “S’okay.”

Wally’s brow furrows in concern. “You sure?”

“Yeah…”

_ As my memory rests, but never forgets what I lost, wake me up when September ends... _

Wally watches him for a moment, as if trying to gauge how okay Dick really is with it. Dick just keeps smiling soft, his chest aching a little, but that’s to be expected. The thought of his parents death isn’t as painful as it once was. It just… is what it is. Despite everything, Dick has managed to come to terms with it after all this time.

With Wally next to him and the city below, the one thing making his heart truly heavy is how much he wishes his parents could have met the wonderful man at his side. 

Dick takes a deep breath of cold air, holding it for a just long enough for it to burn in his lungs, then lets it out slow, eyes closed. He jumps a little when he feels an arm wrap around his shoulders, not expecting the touch. Wally pulls Dick close against his side, his body heat in stark contrast to the brisk temperature outside. He doesn’t say anything, just giving Dick that little bit of physical comfort he needs without having to acknowledge it. Wally just… knows. He’s been there through it all, and Dick couldn’t be more grateful to have him here now. 

It’s not exactly how he’d expected this night to end - not that he’d been expecting anything in particular - but it seems right, in a way. Leaning his head on Wally’s shoulder, Dick doesn’t feel the usual heat rise to his cheeks. He’s comfortable, and safe. Sure, he’s in love with Wally, but right now he can’t bring himself to care about that. After a night of complicated emotions and wishing for more than he gets to have, Dick suddenly feels content. 

Right now, Wally is his  _ best  _ friend, and that’s enough.


End file.
